


Freedom

by goalielove43



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Confessions, Frottage, Gay Male Character, M/M, Masturbation, NAHL, NM Ice Wolves, Pining, hookup app, in the closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goalielove43/pseuds/goalielove43
Summary: It's one of the easiest things he's ever done and that feels like the polar opposite of what he's built up in his mind. He thinks it should be difficult, should leave him shaking with fear, should be making him question his own sanity. Instead he feels a calm he hasn't ever accomplished. He feels like there's both a weighted blanket on him and like he's been freed into the sky, a simultaneous duality of every possible sensation.
Relationships: Henrik Laursen/Garrett Mackay
Kudos: 19





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is real, my poor horny brain made it all up.

It's hard not to want every single little thing he shouldn't. Particularly when Garrett is down there on the ice, settled into his stretch, and looking like _that_. It stirs things inside him to see his legs spread just-so, to see how deep he goes into the stretch - into every stretch, really - and it makes him ache when he realizes Garrett has his eyes closed and his lips parted, and just... _fuck_. He thinks he shouldn't be staring at his fellow goalie like this. Hell, he shouldn't be staring at a _guy_ like this, period. Even if he did let himself, it definitely shouldn't be before the third period of a fucking game. 

He sits on the bench and closes his own eyes, tries so hard to refocus and remind himself of all the reasons why wanting Garrett is a bad idea. 

Garrett probably doesn't lean the same way he does. Not that he has proof either way, but it's unlikely that the team would somehow pick two goalies who both like men. Even if Garrett did, there's nothing to say he'd be into Henrik and even further than that, outing himself to find out seems like the worst possible idea in the entire world. Particularly this early in his career. If he's already made a name for himself when it comes out, he figures he'll be less likely to be discarded like yesterday's garbage. If he's already in the NHL and he's been there for years, people will be scandalized, but maybe let him finish his career if he's as good as his dreams let him think he might one day be. 

He's not foolish enough to believe he's worth anything near that on this brand new team. He's an asset in a struggling world, but he's not irreplaceable. Garrett proves that a hundred fold. 

Then there are his parents: the people who love him and care for him and one hundred percent think he's so straight he's bedded half the girls in Albuquerque. He doesn't give them these ideas, but he doesn't correct the assumptions either. They ask if he has a girlfriend, he laughs it off. His father asks in his deeply implied way if he's gotten laid recently, he makes vague assurances that he's _satisfied_. He doesn't say it's his own hand that does the satisfying.

Sure, he's dated girls, even dated someone who took him to their prom before he finished high school. He remembers giving in and making out with a few of them back in middle school, even recalls kissing the girl who took him to prom. He's never done more than that and honestly doesn't intend to. He's never been with the same girl for more than a month, careful to disallow attachment, to never be _that guy_ when they think back on him. He just never sticks around long enough for someone to fall in love or try to push him toward sex. It occurs to him maybe he's been using them and he must be frowning too hard because Garrett makes a point to come back to the bench before he goes to his crease, leaning over the wall and grabbing a fresh bottle of water for the one Henrik watched him fill before he left the locker room. Their eyes lock and Henrik breathes and tries to force himself to be way more okay than he is.

He tries to focus on the last period of the game, but he truly can't. They've been losing anyway and a glance at the board tells him they're still being shut out. He can hear the words he needs to say to Garrett after the game, the assurances that despite who might blame him for it; it's not entirely on him. He can't save it all and if they boys don't step it up, that's not on him. He examines the words perhaps too much, turning them over and trying to find a flaw in them and by the time he's figured them out, the game is over and he's the last one off the ice, Garrett having waited on him at the gate. He hesitates, his breath coming in and holding before he tells himself to just be _himself_. "Don't blame yourself for what isn't your fault," he offers, quiet as he clasps him on the shoulder and heads off down the hall. Garrett follows him, very obviously tired and hurting and well, that's the life of being a goalie. He knows it on a personal level.

They make their way into the locker room and Henrik doesn't think as he strips, takes a token shower because he's only a little tiny bit sweaty having done nothing more than the warmups today. He clothes himself and heads to the bus without waiting on a single other person. He's the first one in and he feels some regret that he's considered a Rookie and can't keep a seat to himself, can't huddle in his own world of peace and blocking everyone out and honestly just moping. He needs to mope right now. Desperately so.

More and more of the guys get on the bus, someone turns on the music and cranks it nearly all the way up. Henrik's thankful for the lack of ability to talk right up until they're on the road and his phone vibrates three times in a row in his pocket. He's crammed in beside Keegan and he's hesitant to read any texts this close to someone despite knowing that literally no one knows his deepest secrets. But he feels raw and open and like he's on display anyway, so it becomes a concern when it shouldn't be.

He thumbs open his phone and clicks on the thread with Garrett anyway. 

_You seem upset tonight.  
Not an accusation, just... worried I guess?  
I'm here if you need to talk. About anything. What's talked about between goalies, stays between goalies and all that, yeah?_

He pushes his tongue along the inside of his lip and debates the merits of answering versus not. If he answers he has to skirt the truth. If he doesn't, he risks the foundation of what he's built with Garrett since he's been here and Garrett's so bright eyed and easily pleased and... _gorgeous_. The thought is intrusive, unwanted as far as Henrik's concerned. He doesn't truly hate that he has these thoughts, but it doesn't make life any easier for them to exist and he sort of feels disgruntled about them when they happen. He's felt this way since middle school and the first time he saw his teammate's slowly changing bodies in a different kind of light. The same month he stopped looking entirely. It only took one poorly timed erection to make him understand to never _ever_ look in the locker room. 

Biting back every ounce of a sigh he wants to let out, he offers some fragile version of the truth in return.

_Got caught in my own thoughts. I'll get over it. Thanks for caring._

He sends it before he can rethink it, closes his eyes and rests his phone on his chest, listens to the soft sounds of whatever game Keegan's playing on his phone that take an undertone to the loud music around them until his phone vibrates again.

_Anything I can help with?_

Something zings though his body, straight down to his dick and he gets flashes of half-formed fantasies that shouldn't even exist. Garrett helping him on his knees, on his back, behind him, around him, and _fuck_ it's so difficult to drag himself out of it to answer. By the time he does his muscles are tense and he's half hard in his slacks. It's difficult to keep his breathing calm, to not draw attention to his own thoughts. He thinks how fucked he'd be if someone could actually read minds. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he shudders slightly and taps out a reply. 

_Doubt it._

There is, after all, the faintest chance that he could, even the less than one percent chance that he would. But he doesn't think that's how this will go.

_I might understand more than you think. Come back here. I'll share my seat. No one will say a thing, they'll just think goalie-shit and ignore it._

It takes him all of thirty seconds to figure out that he's both going to do it and an utter moron for doing so. He leaves his shit behind and heads down the aisle, sliding in beside Garrett when he reaches his seat, noting how everything's been moved so he has a place to sit. He watches Garrett type on his iPad and then hand it over.

_You can tell me anything. I won't say anything to anyone else, no matter what it is. Goalie trust eternal._

The words almost make him want to admit a few things, almost make him want to unload it all right here and then delete it all with his own two hands and let it be hearsay for the rest of forever. _Almost_, but not quite, because it's too dangerous. 

He takes the iPad and debates what to actually say. When he finally types something, it's but a shadow of his truth. 

_My own thoughts fucking with my mind. I'll get over it, I always do. Been like this since I was a kid._

They pass it back and forth between them, one line at a time.

_I can help._

_No one can help this but me._

_It always feels that way when life pushes us down. Even if you don't let me in, let someone in. There's apps that help... check the folder marked with an X on my homescreen._

Henrik pauses, stares at it and finally erases all the text and goes to the main screen. He clicks on the folder marked X and there's three apps for online therapy, one called Intrusive Thoughts, and a handful of random mindless game type apps. Garrett reaches over and flicks the folder to its second page, revealing an array of dating apps. At first Henrik almost wants to laugh. It's sort of hilarious that the next solution is clearly sex if the first array of apps don't help. It takes him a minute to see an app he knows, one he's debated downloading tons of times. It's not Grindr and it's not any of the usual array. Lesser known, only known among certain realms, a mumbling of its existence in the gay community. His heart's in his throat as he clicks off of the folder and goes back to the document, debating what to say.

He thinks a therapist would probably help, but that involves admitting a lot. He debates what he can do and finally decides to ask if he can try a few of the games and see if he gets a moment to click on the gay hookup app and see if he's actually signed in on it or if he downloaded it as a joke. A fishing attempt, perhaps. 

_Mind if I try a few of the games?_

Garrett doesn't even take the iPad back, he just waves toward Henrik and lets him be with it. He sits with it and goes through the games one-by-one until Garrett leans his head on the window next to him and falls asleep. Or at least he has his eyes closed and Henrik thinks he's waited long enough for him to actually be asleep before he turns the brightness nearly all the way down and clicks on the app he really wanted access to. It opens and there's a sign in screen with the username and password saved. He clicks to log in and holds his breath when Garrett's profile appears, definitely there and judging by the date on it, used for at least a year. His name on it is _Mack_ and he chews his lip a little, unwilling to pry any further but wanting to so badly. There's a second photo and he knows what those photos usually are on these kind of sites and he wants so badly to see that, but it won't help him with any of his issues, only make them worse. Rather, he closed it and makes sure it's not in the open programs list of things that aren't really closed but pretending to be. 

He sighs and puts the iPad down between them and thinks. He thinks for what feels like at least a hundred miles of road between where they used to be and where they are and it... it aches. He longs to tell his truth to someone, to trust someone enough to know. Not to mention Garrett's presently the one he's longing _for_.

He picks back up the iPad and opens the text document again and types out a simple message. 

_I'm gay. I guess do with that what you will. Preferably not by ruining my life, but you know, we'll see where trust gets me I suppose._

He turns off the screen and abandons the iPad there and goes back to his seat. He's barely even seated before his phone vibrates and, slightly disgruntled, he pulls it out and sees it's from Garrett and he almost wants to panic. Instead, he sits his ass down and checks to ensure Keegan's still passed out cold before opening it with shaking hands.

_You're not alone. Or maybe half not alone? Whatever, I'm bi, so... yeah. Guessing you saw the app then?_

Henrik debates lying, debates telling him he saw nothing, but instead he types out: _Mack_ and hits send, watches as Garrett types back and when it comes in, it's a lot of laughing faces followed by a question that makes him blush something awful.

_Did you see the second pic?_

_I was seeing if it was a fishing attempt, if you were just trying to lull me into saying my truth, not nose around like a total asshole. So no. Just enough to see the account was real and that's it. Home page. No clicking._

_Too bad, it was a good pic._

Something hot sweeps inside Henrik and everything in him wants to see that second picture. It's going to be a damn miracle if he keeps himself from signing up just to see it. He wonders how long he'll hold on.

\---

The answer, it turns out, is less than a week. He signs up for the site and puts his nickname, too. No last name. It's not required and he's not volunteering. He does a lot of acrobatics to ensure the picture he puts up there is both identifiable as him and not identifiable as Henrik Laursen: hockey player. He searches Mack and spends an entire hour scrolling all the damn Mack's on this site before he finds him and he finds he has to click on it to say he's interested in order to actually see Garrett's profile. He chews on his lower lip and debates for what feels like an eternity before just letting himself do it. 

He flicks to the second picture before he can talk himself out of it and he's instantly so aroused he feels like he's going to faint from all the blood rushing out of his brain and right down to his dick. He arches a little and reaches down to rub at himself, studying the mostly nude pic of Garrett's body, clearly post-workout, muscles defined like they only are after a good workout, sweat glistening in all the places that indicate a hard go. He squints at it and recognizes the wall behind him and wants to laugh and sob at the same time. It's the locker room wall and that makes it both better and worse. His hand is in his pants and he's stroking his dick before he can think on it, staring at just how fucking gorgeous Garrett's body is now that he's allowed to look at it.

He's close _so close_ when his phone vibrates and he sees a message pop up in the app. His heart seizes in his throat when he realizes it's Garrett and he yanks his hand out of his pants and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down before he clicks on it. He takes the plunge and clicks on the message, prepared to be made to feel like the creeper asshole he thinks he is. Instead there's an image awaiting his download and an absurd little winky face after it. Hesitantly, he clicks on it and waits as it downloads and opens and his breath feels like it's been punched out of his lungs.

It's Garrett's hand, of that he has no doubt and it's resting over the very large bulge of his cock in his leggings. He's hard and it's _everything_ and Henrik can't stop himself. He shifts his dick so it's a little less vulgar and snaps a pic to send back, heart in his throat as he does it.

The message he gets back makes him shiver. 

_Could have just told me you want my dick. I told you I'm bi for a reason, man. I want yours just as much, so we're clear._

Henrik rubs his cock and groans deep in his throat, arching into his own touch, shivering almost violently as he thinks on what it'd be like to touch Garrett. To hold him or rub his cock or more than that. He wants it all. Absolutely all of it.

He texts him outside of the app, if only because he has to understand it's really real. 

_My billets are out, will be until 9._ He follows it up with an address and waits, his heart pounding until he sees Garrett's return text, a simple _omw_.

He panics for all of a few seconds and then tells himself to calm down, that it's okay. Garrett wouldn't put them both in jeopardy. 

Somehow, someway, he manages to get himself in gear and go through the motions of cleaning himself up, making himself smell nicer than most people do by simply existing. He sniff tests so many areas he's tired of inhaling by the time he's done and he turns down his bed just in case. Another glance at the clock to confirm the time and how long he has and he prays his billets don't come back before they said they would. Not that he thinks they'd have a problem with him, they have an equality sticker on their car after all, but he's so attached to his secret it makes it difficult to ascertain when he should trust and when he shouldn't. He's always defaulted to shouldn't.

He goes downstairs and waits on Garrett, letting him meet the dog - Peaches: a ridiculous name for a very brown dog - and then leading him upstairs. He closes the door and leans back against it, some heady version of fear and desire running rampant in his veins. The way Garrett looks at him has to be similar to how he feels like he's looking at Garrett. There's heat and lust and god, everyone is always right when they say goalie's eyes give everything away if only you're looking for it. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and pushes away from the door, goes to him and it's easier than he thinks it should ever be to put his hands on Garrett's hips, to step closer to him, to lean in and seal their lips together. It's one of the easiest things he's ever done and that feels like the polar opposite of what he's built up in his mind. He thinks it should be difficult, should leave him shaking with fear, should be making him question his own sanity. Instead he feels a calm he hasn't ever accomplished. He feels like there's both a weighted blanket on him and like he's been freed into the sky, a simultaneous duality of every possible sensation.

Garrett relaxes into his arms, his hands sliding over Henrik's hips, around to his ass, and then he's squeezing and it feels like heaven. He rocks his hips against Garrett's, feels that they're both in the same state and that, too, makes it easier to direct them to the bed and ease them both down on it. He crawls up with him, Garrett shoving his shoes off and then pushing himself up toward the headboard. He meets him halfway into a kiss and the groan that filters into the air is half his and half Garrett's. He doesn't think they'll get very far tonight. He's stored away too much passion, too much need for his entire life. He's already been close once tonight. There's no way it'll end slowly.

Thankfully Garrett doesn't seem interested in slowly. He grabs at Henrik's ass like it’s a lifeline, grinds against him and makes the most adorable little noises. Henrik wonders if this is what sex is supposed to be about. Being enamored with your partner's noises, the way their cheeks flush, the feeling of their lips as they part. He shudders and reaches between them, determined not to end his first time in his own pants even if that seems somehow boldly appropriate. He eases his leggings down and Garrett mirrors him and when they come back together it's like the air in a forest, a freshly hewn sheet of ice, a perfect save right in the glove with all his muscles stretched just the right amount. He shudders and arches into it, pushes himself past perfection and into something that makes his pulse race and his mind go foggy and desperate. They rock against one another and he slides his lips down Garrett's throat, along his Adam's apple and god, this is what he's wanted his whole life. To feel a man he wants under him like this. To feel the hard lines and the proper angles and like his world is coming unglued while simultaneously being remade. 

He cums with a shocked little sound, an intense cry that makes Garrett gasp and buck beneath him. Distantly he hears him whisper words of affection and pleasure and then he hears a groan he thinks he'll cling to forever before Garrett adds to the warm mess between them, his hips rocking him through it. 

They stay there, perhaps longer than is necessary, but he's loathe to move, doesn't want to let the outside in, doesn't want the errant thoughts of if what he's done is right or wrong to come barging in and ruining everything. He tells himself it's all okay. His secret is safe right here, just like Garrett's is safe with him. He tells himself he's not allowed to freak out... and he doesn't.

Eventually he has to move and he does just long enough to dig out the wet wipes he keeps in his drawer and toss one to Garrett before cleaning himself up. He settles back on the bed and lets Garrett decide what's happening and he's pleasantly surprised when they end up tangled in each other, Garrett's hand on his chest, thigh between his own, and he eases into it, his hand going into Garrett's hair, the other resting on top of his hand. He's not going to question this, not going to name it or ask what they're doing or where it's going. None of that matters. What matters is right here, right now, and that he can be all of who he is even if just for a moment. 

It feels like freedom... because it is.


End file.
